What Happens Now
by itwasinevitable94
Summary: Post Berlin tag. Tony and Ziva in the hospital. How will this brush with death affect their relationship? Will they finally move forward?


So I was kinda reluctant to write this cause there have already been so many great post-Berlin fics written already, but I've had this image running through my head. This isn't really a speculation piece cause I'm pretty much 100% certain nothing like this will happen, so it's more of a what-if kind of thing, but I thought it turned out kinda cute… I don't know… hope you like it! A review would absolutely make my day!

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A faint, persistent beep began to draw her mind into consciousness as she soon began to process her new surroundings. The smell of antiseptic was the first thing to strike her, followed by the gleam of the fluorescent lighting above that illuminated the whitewashed walls and linoleum flooring. She squinted under the harsh light and turned her head to the side. Her eyes latched on to the IV that protruded from her right arm, taking in her bruised and wounded flesh, while noticing a curtained partition within her peripheral vision, drawn across to divide the room.

"Tony…" she breathed.

Once she said his name, recollection hit her and a panic began to spread through her body. She attempted to raise herself from the bed, in a rush to scan the rest of the room to find her partner, yet she was hit with a wave of dizziness and pain and fell back onto her pillow, squeezing her eyes shut in an attempt to block the ache of her wounds.

"Ziver." She felt a comforting hand fall onto her shoulder, and her eyes drew open at the touch.

"Tony?" she again questioned, the quake in her voice heavily apparent, fear etched strongly across her features. Her eyes inspected the older man's face in an attempt to discover some sort of information as to the condition of her partner, yet she was having difficulty reading his expression, and the panic began to bubble up inside of her again.

"He's stable," he finally declared.

_Thank God. _She sighed and closed her eyes, taking a moment to collect herself before meeting her boss's gaze and expressing her plea, "I need to see him."

"He's on the other side of this curtain. They were gonna put you in separate rooms but I told em that wouldn't be a smart idea." He gave her a soft, knowing smile, which she gladly returned, thankful he was able to read enough into her relationship with Tony to know that things would not have gone over well if they had been separated.

"You need to rest," Gibbs stated matter-of-factly. "He's not awake yet."

Those words did not settle well with her.

"Can you at least pull back the curtain?" she very nearly begged.

He didn't think it would be a good idea for her to see him just yet, but the pleading look in her sad, desperate eyes made him cave. He stepped back and drew the curtain aside, hearing her breath catch as her partner's battered body appeared before her. He could see the tears beginning to form in her eyes, and he moved to stand beside her, reaching for her hand. She clutched his fingers, and he noticed just how fragile she looked, nearly childlike.

"He's gonna pull through, Ziver."

She nodded in acknowledgement, "I know. Of course he will. He will wake up soon and make some stupid joke about being just like Anton Chirgurh in No Country for Old Men." She spoke these words with an attempt at conviction, in an effort to convince herself they were true, but the quiver in her voice made her words sound like distant hopes.

She tried to pull herself together and regain some of her composure, yet the more she stared at her partner, the more she began to notice the extent of his injuries; taking in the bandages across his head, the deep purple bruises upon his cheeks, the cuts down his arms.

Gibbs felt helpless as he saw the pain and fear stretch across her face; he knew there was nothing he could say to reassure her; she would worry no matter what. She just needed time.

"Hey," he gave her hand a gentle squeeze and brought her attention back to him. "I gotta get back to the office. Abby's sifting through the evidence from the crash, and McGee's checking traffic cams from the area, trying to catch a glimpse of the car that hit you. Got a lot to do."

She nodded knowingly. As much as she appreciated his comforting presence, the hunt for Bodnar was more important to her, and she needed to be alone with Tony, alone with her grief. Gibbs understood that.

He leaned down and placed a light kiss to her forehead. "Love you, kid," he whispered into her hair before pulling back and moving toward the door.

...

Shortly after Gibbs had left that first morning she had awoken, Ziva asked that her bed be rolled over beside Tony's. The five feet that separated them was too great of a distance for her. The nurse had a poised refusal on her lips, but the look Ziva gave her told her it would be best to comply with her request; so the bed was moved.

Two days had passed, and he had yet to wake up. The doctors told her it was just a waiting game now; there was nothing more they could do for him except keep him comfortable until he was ready. They assured her he was healing, that, with time, he would make a full recovery.

Ziva was positioned on the edge of her bed on her side, ignoring the pain of her bruised ribs. She held his hand tightly within her own and gazed at his features. She gave his palm a gentle squeeze, and her heart nearly stopped when she felt a contraction of his fingers in response. Her eyes held steady on his face, searching for any perceivable hint of growing consciousness. His eyebrow twitched and his eyelids began to flutter. Her anticipation of this moment consumed her and her heart began race.

His eyes drew open slowly, and she could sense his disorientation at the unfamiliar surroundings and detect the rising panic in his demeanor. She clasped his fingers securely and placed a soothing hand onto his cheek, hoping to draw the terror from his features. He turned his head at her touch, and she could see the fear slowly begin to leave him. He winced in pain as he draw his arm up to place his hand on top of hers that lay rested on his face. For a long moment they remained staring deeply into each other's eyes, needing no words to convey the great sense of relief they both felt at seeing that the other was alive.

Just as she had done in the car in the moments before everything had gone dark, he rotated his hand around under her palm and intertwined their fingers. He removed his hand from above hers on his face and brought it to rest on top of their locked grips, sandwiching her fingers within his much larger grasp. Her hand fell from his face and came to rest above his heart.

"Hi," he rasped, his throat audibly dry. Ziva made a move to get up to give him a glass of water but he held quickly to her hand and pulled her to his side once more.

"Stay," he pleaded, swallowing hard in an attempt to wet and clear his throat.

She gave him a gentle smile and curled back into his embrace.

"I am so sorry," she whispered, her eyes welling with tears, "I did not want you involved for this very reason..." Her rapid blinking made a vain attempt to squelch the tears from slipping from her lids, and she raised her hand from his chest to wipe across her cheek.

"No, Ziva. I should have seen that car coming. I should have been focused on the road…"

"I distracted you, Tony."

He shook his head with as much force as his minimal strength could permit. "How bout we just agree that maybe it's a bit of both our faults? … I think our minds were a bit preoccupied." he proposed, glancing down at their intertwined fingers, drawing back recollection of the intimate moment they shared in the seconds before the crash, the corners of his mouth turning up in a slight smile, trying to ease the tension.

"Okay," she agreed, understanding his implication, yet the tears in her eyes continued to flow freely down her cheeks.

He brought his hand up from on top of her own to caress her face, brushing his thumb across her cheek to catch the falling tears. "Don't cry, I'm gonna be just fine, _we're_ gonna be just fine, sweet cheeks," he murmured, using his newfound affectionate nickname for her in hopes of drawing a small smile across her guilt and grief stricken face. Yet as he said those words, a tear of his own managed to escape and trail down his bruised skin.

Ziva let out a soft chuckle as she reached out to brush his own tear aside, "We are quite the pair, yes?"

Tony released a quiet laugh as well. "Yeah, we sure are," he confirmed, a smile stretching across his face.

That smile sent a flutter to her heart; she had thought she would never see it again.

The partners remained in comfortable, contemplative silence for a passing moment before one of them resumed the conversation.

"Tony…"

His breath held in anticipation; there had been too many times that she had let that sentence go unfinished. Now, there was nothing that could interrupt her, besides her own conflicted conscious. He wasn't about to interrupt her.

She paused and thought she saw a flash of hope run across his eyes. She wanted so badly to be able to find the courage to finally utter that four letter word she had been so careful to avoid over the past few months. She had lost so much in her life, been left with such a broken, fragile heart, and as much as she tried to put up a strong, impenetrable front, Tony was always able to see through to her. Over the past few months she had come to find Tony had not been as careful as she to conceal his emotions, and there had been a couple of occasions her heart had caught with fear that he might let slip that four letter word himself, but she had not been ready to hear that then. Now, however, after all these months of pain and heartache, all these moments of missed chances and brushes with death, she was beginning to comprehend just how delicate life could be, how so quickly people could be taken away from their loved ones. It was time for her to speak the words that sat in her heart each day. She owed him that much; she owed their relationship that much; honesty and a chance.

"…I think I might have fallen in love with you," she breathed, again settling her palm gently onto his bruised cheek.

He closed his eyes and let her words sink into his heart, trying to memorize this moment; the feel of her warm breath fanning across his face, the touch of her delicate fingers upon his skin, the soft rise and fall of her chest. He had waited so long to hear that word. Love. His thoughts drew back to his bucket list, tucked into the pocket of his wallet. After the events that had unfolded in the last forty-eight hours, his near miss in that car crash, it was time to start checking things off, starting with the most important: tell her.

"Tony," she called, drawing him back into her presence. He could see the worry in her eyes, the concern that maybe she had said too much, that she had misinterpreted the progression of their relationship, that he did not feel the same way.

"I think I might have fallen in love with you too, Ziva," he finally returned, a shy smile stretching across his face, his typical DiNozzo confidence rather lacking in the moment.

A mirrored, bashful grin covered her own face, while her eyes shown with strong passion.

"What happens now?" she questioned.

"Now, we catch Bodnar. We catch him, and move forward. Together."

She gave his hand a gentle squeeze, "Together."


End file.
